


heralded by the spring, you are my sunshine

by BunnyThatFlies



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime)
Genre: Emotions, Fluff, Gift Giving, Introspection, M/M, Pining, Seasons, Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-02-29 11:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18777463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunnyThatFlies/pseuds/BunnyThatFlies
Summary: Four seasons in a year, four ways Snufkin loves Moomin.





	1. Summer

**Author's Note:**

> *sings* im in wip hellllll someone pls save meeeee

It’s hot on the beach, the sun reflecting on the waves and shining into Snufkin’s eyes as he casts his line out to catch some fish. He had hoped to be out here on his own, to let the sounds of the waves crashing against the sand fill his mind without judgement, to enjoy the rays on his skin, to think, but one is never truly alone in Moominvalley.

Once Moomin had heard news of his beach plans, he’d asked to join him, and Snufkin was happy to oblige, alone time was still alone time even with Moomin, the silence usually so natural and easy that it was hard to remember why he even liked being on his own so much.

But then Little My overheard and demanded to come, and so along with her came Sniff and Snorkmaiden like a little group that can’t do anything without one another.

The other four are currently messing around in the shallows not far from where Snufkin sits on the pier, bait at his side, shoes on the other, feet dipping into the water slightly. He doesn’t hate the company, per se, although the noise is annoying, the sight disturbing the peacefulness of the otherwise calm day. It is nice to see them all having fun though.

His line tightens and quivers, so he reels it in, smiling in triumph at the small fish hanging from the hook. He places the fish beside him, loading the hook with a worm before casting it again, watching it bob serenely in the water.

When he looks up, his eyes meet Moomin’s, and Snufkin smiles amicably, cheeks flushing slightly at the grin and wave he receives.

It hasn’t always been this way. Not even last year was he so affected by a simple gesture of affection from his friend, and as far as he could tell, nothing much had changed. Truth be told, he’s oddly scared of the feeling, and that’s mostly why he’d wanted to venture out here alone (or at the very least with someone who knows how to leave him alone when he needs it), so he could mull it over in a neutral space.

Because it feels strangely new, and special, and like something he might want to keep. And Snufkin doesn’t like to  _ keep _ , doesn’t much enjoy special.

Once before, he’s heard of similar feelings. A quiet morning before Moomin awoke, sitting on the riverbank, Snorkmaiden had sat beside him and decided to talk about Moomin with him, about how he made her heart flutter, her cheeks warm, her mind fuzzy.

And everyone in Moominvalley knows the exact wording for what she feels for Moomin. It’s shameful that Snufkin had related to everything she’d said.

He feels his heart stutter a little when he remembers that best friends don’t feel that way for each other, and he wants to throw himself into the water and let it take him far away from his feelings.

“Can I sit with you?” A soft voice pulls him from his internal panic, quiet and sensitive as always, smiling warmly when Snufkin squints up at Moomin from the brim of his hat.

Snufkin moves his shoes next to his bait and pats the wooden plank, an assent. “Of course.”

Moomin sits, his damp fur brushing up against Snufkin's leg as his feet slip into the water. It's mostly silent between them, apart from the occasional shuffle to get comfier, and quiet exclamations when Snufkin manages to catch a bigger fish than normal.

The others don't bother them, too engrossed in their own game of water tag to care about the two of them just enjoying the sun.

“Hey Snuff?” Moomin asks for his attention quietly, stretched out and leaning on his hands behind his back with his eyes closed.

Snufkin finds he's thankful the other can't see him, a blush spreading on his cheeks at the nickname. “Yes Moomin?” He pulls the brim of his hat down when he opens his eyes, sitting up and grabbing something from the plank next to him.

“I know you don't like material things,” he begins, turning to face Snufkin as he puts his fishing rod down. “But I found this and it made me think of you, and if you hold it up to the sun, everything turns gold under it.”

In Moomin’s paw sits a slightly misshapen, but palm sized piece of sea glass, amber in colour and slightly matte from being sanded down throughout the years it’s been travelling. He demonstrates the gold colour on his paw as he holds the glass over it, a slightly apprehensive smile on his face, voice far away and soft. “It’s the same colour as your eyes when the sun hits them.”

Snufkin feels his face heat up even more, suddenly self-conscious (but it’s not wholly unpleasant), staring at the glass and wondering how true that is. “It’s… Very nice, Moomin.”

His friend seems to snap out of whatever distant thought he was having, kicking his legs a little in the water, the gentle splashing sound cutting through the atmosphere. “It’s for you, anyway, so you can carry around some sunshine in all that snow.” Moomin holds it out to Snufkin, who takes it without a second thought, watching it turn his palm gold.

“Thank you, I’ll treasure it forever.” And he means it, cheeks still warm as he returns to fishing, sitting with Moomin in a comfortable silence. Maybe it isn’t as catastrophic to feel for people as he thought.


	2. Autumn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im back! late lol
> 
> enjoy!

The golden brown leaves coat the ground in a thick layer of mulch, no longer crisp after being played with for too long.

Snufkin has leaves in places he never thought possible before.

Moomin sits next to his laid down form, still laughing softly to himself as he throws handfuls of leaves over Snufkin's stomach, then up into the air like confetti, the smile on his face brighter than the sun.

It's peaceful in a way Snufkin always used to fear, companionable and gentle, like the cool breeze surrounding them from the mountains.

The sea glass sits heavy in his trouser pocket, where it’s been since the day Moomin gave it to him, but it’s comfortable. Oddly so.

By this time in Autumn, Snufkin usually feels restless, panicky and enclosed, anticipating the first snowfall so he has an excuse to leave as soon as possible. 

Of course he feels guilty, can't stand that it upsets Moomin the way it does, saddened by how he tries to hide it.

This year feels different though. Mellow. Soft. Like they have time, and Snufkin for once isn't scared of it.

“Snuff, that cloud looks like Little My.” Moomin mutters quietly, ceasing his leaf-throwing to lay beside Snufkin and point at the cloud he's talking about.

Snufkin laughs freely, tilting his head towards Moomin to find where he's pointing and agreeing somewhat with his observation.

(He doesn't want to dwell on the nickname; he has been for the past few months already.)

“That one looks like an apple,” he responds, pointing to another cloud not far from the Little My one. “There's even a leaf on the stem.”

Moomin hums quietly in agreement, dropping his paw back to the ground. Only it lands on Snufkin's hand already placed on the leaves between them, his fuzzy, warm paw heavy on his hand and mind.

Neither of them move, still both staring at the clouds above them, but Snufkin can feel the blush on his face again, pulling his hat down over his face and pretending to nap.

Moomin shifts, his paw coming off of Snufkin's, and sadness fills him at the lack of contact, ashamed of himself.

“Snufkin,” Moomin whispers, taking his hat off his face and putting it on his own head, face guarded but soft. “What does that one look like to you?”

Following the line of Moomin's finger, Snufkin looks at a cloud that's shaped much like a flower that blooms in the valley during Spring; one of the first signs that he's arrived back to Moomin.

“Aster,” He whispers back gently, sprinkling a few leaves over his hat on Moomin's head, smiling at the grin he receives. "Patience and varying love, blooms in the forest in Spring."

“Exactly what I was thinking.” Moomin hums before they fall back into the comfortable silence of before, the wind ruffling Snufkin’s hair in a way that feels alien without his hat.

He reaches out to take it back from Moomin, but stops himself when his eyes settle on him. Wearing his hat, he looks serene, misplaced and yet exactly where he should be, his white fur impossibly soft and shiny and contrasting with the tattered green of his hat. It’s not so bad to share when it’s with Moomin, Snufkin decides, ignoring the heat high on his cheeks.

Moomin’s eyes stare far off into the distance, the way he looks when his thoughts are stuck and circling through his mind desperately. Snufkin wants to know what he’s thinking, where his mind is, so he can join him, but Snufkin’s own thoughts are distracting enough that he might overload if he starts thinking about Moomin’s thoughts too.

A drop of water falls on his hair, followed by another a few seconds later before it starts to rain heavily, soaking the two of them within seconds.

“I didn’t even notice at first!” Moomin exclaims as he pushes himself to his feet, helping Snufkin up with one paw, the other holding the hat onto his head securely as the sky darkens, a roll of thunder echoing on the mountains surrounding the valley. “Oh but you must be much more wet than me, without your hat!”

Snufkin doesn’t respond, mind too preoccupied with the fact that Moomin still hasn’t let go of his hand, hold firm but gentle at the same time, fur wet and uncomfortable where they’re joined but still so soft. He barely even notices as Moomin pulls them up the stairs and in through the front door of Moominhouse.

He breaks out of his (frankly embarrassing) trance when Moomin lets go to shake off the rainwater in his fur, most of it landing on Snufkin and soaking him through his clothes. There’s an awkward silence when Moomin realises what he did and Snufkin comes down from the shock until they both start laughing freely, faces bright and eyes scrunched closed with how hard their laughter is.

“Oh my, were you caught out in that storm?” Moominmamma questions as she exits the kitchen to see what the commotion was. “I’ll find some towels and spare clothes for you, Snufkin.”

Snufkin puts a hand over his mouth and nods gratefully at her, trying to stop laughing. He looks at Moomin from the corner of his eye and meets his gaze, and they dissolve into giggles again, breathless and slightly cold but the happiest he’s been in a while.

Eventually, after Mamma helped Snufkin to dry off and left him with the spare clothes, he stops giggling, cheeks aching and eyes watering as he folds his wet clothes over the radiator in the spare room so they can dry.

Moomin’s room is next door, and he can hear him talking to Mamma about the day they’ve spent together. He tunes them out, slipping into the pale blue shirt (soft with years of use and periodic washing) and a pair of light brown slacks, slipping the sea glass back into his pocket. His boots sit under the radiator too, upside down on a towel to drain out the water.

His skin itches a little under the unfamiliar fabric of the clothes that don’t belong to him, but he appreciates the warmth and dryness of them. His hair is mostly dry, but very poofed out, a lot like how Moomin’s fur looks after he’s taken a bath. It makes Snufkin giggle a little again before there’s a knock on the door.

“Snufkin?” Moomintroll says cautiously, opening the door when Snufkin responds, cheeks slightly pink under his fur. An awkward silence follows, the sound of the downpour outside loud in comparison.

Snufkin feels his own cheeks heat up (again, come on Snufkin, pull yourself together) and he coughs lightly to try and break the silence. “Yes Moomintroll?”

“Oh, um, your… Hat… Is drying downstairs…” Moomin’s words are choppy at best and it’s clear he’s embarrassed, although Snufkin can’t figure out why. “Sorry, you just look a lot different… Without your normal clothes and hat… Mamma has made us hot cocoa, come down when you’re ready.”

And with that, Moomin disappears down the stairs as fast as he can, leaving Snufkin even more confused.

His heart feels heavy as he leans on the windowsill, staring out across the valley, the occasional lightning strike lighting up the scenery and the rain like a still photo, reminding him that it’s almost time for him to leave for the Winter once again.

His heart aches as his eyes land on his campsite, sodden yet standing well, hand resting on his gift from Moomin in his pocket as melancholy takes over.

A part of his mind wonders how bad it’ll be to stay for the Winter once Autumn has passed. The other reminds him swiftly that he  _ can’t _ stay, no matter how sad it makes him to leave. Snufkin would hate to come to resent Moominvalley for being stuck.

Besides. Parting only makes the reunion sweeter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay hi! this chapter took longer because i went on holiday this week, sorry about that! i had fun tho, so it was worth it
> 
> they...cute...


	3. Winter

Cold and numb, Snufkin's fingers ache to be wrapped around a warm mug of Moominmamma's coffee, or maybe held in a pair of soft, fluffy paws to keep him warm. 

Curious.

Ignoring the heat in his cheeks, Snufkin continues on, hopping over snow-covered logs and ducking under branches, holding firmly onto the straps of his pack, listening to the chittering of animals not in hibernation.

He’s been travelling for a few days now, stopping only when it’s too dark to see anything, before continuing at dawn. He has no planned destination in mind, and that’s just the way he likes it. His mind is blissfully empty as he watches the snow fall, glinting in the sunlight like the polished diamonds Snorkmaiden adores so much.

It could be emptier though, he admits, smile falling from his face when he thinks of how the colour of the snow is almost the same shade as Moomintroll’s fur, how soft and fluffy the two things are, how everything reminds him of Moomin (and by extension, Moominvalley).

It’s good to be distant, especially when this happens, because Snufkin is a mumrik, and mumriks don’t keep homes (and it scares him too much that the word itself reminds him of Moominvalley).

Enjoying time on his own, being at one with nature and his thoughts and with no expectations, is the way he yearns to live again, like he did before he and Moomin found each other. Distant. Seperated. Free. His pappa, The Joxter, is not a good example of this, making attachments left, right and centre and eventually always coming back to them, even if only for a while. How strange, that his father is close to Moomin’s own.

Back to Moomin again.

Snufkin sighs loudly, startling a bird out of their nest, sending them flying off in the opposite direction. He doesn’t hate being reminded of his best friend at every moment, but it’s just not in his nature! Or so he thinks.

He's never met another mumrik besides his pappa (who in his opinion, isn’t the most mumrik of mumriks), so he doesn't have a huge pool of knowledge about their species. He knows a lot about the other side of his genes, the mymbles, but he doesn’t share much with them besides his auburn hair and lack of fur. Is his father reminded of his mother in small things, like that, in the same way small things remind him of Moomintroll?

His footsteps cease suddenly, body taut and adrenaline pumping. Those two relationships should  _ not _ be comparable in the way his thoughts lead him to believe.

The sea glass in his pocket burns a hole into his trouser leg, the sensation of it  _ still _ in his possession filling Snufkin with both guilt and warmth.

That Summer day, the day they cloud-gazed until the storm hit, the gift, the sight of Moomin wearing his hat, the way Moomin’s cheeks reddened ever so slightly as he caught sight of Snufkin without his hat and usual clothes, the laughter, the gentle looks, the paw in his hand.

It’s all so much, he admits, swiping the snow off of a rock next to a small brook, the water clear in it’s frigidity. The face that stares back up at him is so full of emotion that Snufkin can hardly believe it’s his own, eyes dark and clouded over, cheeks pink, mouth set in a downwards line, brows furrowed.

The sea glass is cold to the touch as he pulls it from the pocket, turning it over in his hand and wondering how Moomin could always see the meaning of something where Snufkin only saw an object.

The brook gurgles, laughing at him as he mulls over their peculiar friendship. It’s right to do so, he’d find someone being this obtuse incredulous too.

Because he has known their relationship has a better label than ‘friendly’ for many months, how it has long since evolved into something wholly separate from the quiet regard Snufkin had felt for Moomintroll, and the almost pedestal like awe Moomin held for Snufkin when they’d first declared themselves friends.

Doesn’t mean he wants to admit it.

He’s a mumrik, and mumriks don’t get attached.

(They most certainly do, if The Joxter is anything to go by.)

But what does it change if he finally admits that he’s in love with Moomintroll? Where does that leave him in the grand scheme of things? Even if Moomin loved him back romantically, there’s Snorkmaiden to think of, what people might think, how it would affect their friendship, the fall out if things go wrong.

It isn’t in Snufkin’s nature, to fall in love. The brook seems to disagree, flowing faster and splashing at his trouser legs.

He sighs and stands, the glass held firmly in one hand, pack strap in the other, the spring in his step gone as he continues his travels, mind no longer empty at all, full of worries and endless thoughts of Moomintroll.

A creep weaves between his feet as he walks before stopping in front of him, eyes wide with awe, and Snufkin really has no patience for whatever is going to come next.

But it just smiles at him and scuttles on past, not nearly as desperate for discussion as Teety-Woo had been.

It’s enough, however, to pull him out of the never-ending spiral of his thoughts, and from the sideline, Snufkin can safely say there’s not a single reason why he should be panicking.

If he’s in love with Moomin, then there’s nothing that can be done about it. That’s just how emotions are. Things will either work themselves out or the feelings will fade.

A tune comes to mind as he calms down, and pulling out his harmonica, he begins.

It’s sorrowful, full of longing and yearning and melancholia, but underneath that is a sense of hope, of excitement, of love.

Love. The word seems to hang from the last note as Snufkin shudders, a cold breeze drifting in between the trees, like the Winter itself is trying to instill it into his heart, once and for all.

“I’m in love with Moomintroll.” He whispers reverently into the still quiet of the forest, speaking all of his fears and hopes into existence before continuing on, less hesitant to admit that it won’t be long before he returns home.


	4. Spring

Beneath his feet, snow melts, falling away and giving the land back to the plants and flowers that grow in Moominvalley. He knows he’s almost home when he spots a small purple flower with long, thin petals. Aster.

Snufkin bends down to pick a few from where they are most abundant, taking great care to only take the ones that have already had their pollen collected by the bees buzzing around his head, making sure they aren’t home to any other insects. They make a small bouquet, gripped tight in his fist as he stands back up, Moominhouse like a beacon in the distance, drawing him in.

It used to scare him, especially the first time he returned, the first place he’d ever visited more than once. Now, it feels welcoming and exciting (if still a little terrifying), because even though there are plenty of people here, he is free to be himself.

And if that sense of self has changed over the years, it has only been what came naturally.

He hears the stream before he sees it, the water like a lullaby to him after sleeping on its banks for a lot of his life, and with a deep breath, he begins his Spring tune.

Light, breezy and carefree, Snufkin plays like it’s breathing, the melody like his heartbeat, the rhythm in time with his footsteps. It sounds like coming home, to the ones you love.

“Snufkin!” A voice exclaims, pulling him from his harmonica with a small smile, sliding it into his pocket when he sees Moomintroll bounding down the grassy hill from the porch towards the other side of the bridge, where Snufkin places his bag and the bouquet gently. “Snufkin!”

Letting himself laugh a little, the mumrik hurries to the bridge as well, to meet Moomin halfway, seeing all the joy and elation he feels reflected back at him in sky blue eyes. “Moomintroll.”

Moomin slows down, arms almost outstretched like he’s going in for a hug but thought better of it, saying Snufkin’s name  _ again _ with slightly less enthusiasm but more warmth.

However, in a spur of the moment decision, Snufkin decides to not slow down, instead almost running into Moomin, hugging him tightly. It seems to shock the troll, who stumbles back a little from the force of a whole mumrik running at him, but he steadies himself and hugs back even tighter, fur soft under Snufkin’s hands. He smells like plum jam and honey, and Snufkin has never smelled anything so sweet.

After a little while, they let go of each other, eyes shining as they smile at each other and cheeks pink, but it was nice.

Snufkin clears his throat a little when the staring goes on for a little too long, gesturing towards Moominhouse vaguely. “H-how was your Winter?” He cringes a little at the stutter, hoping that Moomin didn’t notice.

“Oh, you know. Long. Cold,” Moomintroll hums, carefully sidestepping around Snufkin to begin helping him set up his campsite, tail swaying too perfectly to be subconscious. “And yours?”

Following him with a small skip, Snufkin bends down and picks up the asters before Moomin could see them, hiding them behind his back. He ignores Moomintroll’s curious frowning, avoiding his face. “Long. Cold.”

They chuckle as if sharing an inside joke, forgetting what they were doing for a moment before a frustrated scream comes from Moominhouse.

“Little My?” He asks, because he knows it is her, but he wants to know why she’s screaming.

Moomintroll looks away, busying himself with setting up Snufkin’s tent for him, with a skill that matches Snufkin’s own. “She knows what she did.”

Laughing at the ominous tone in his voice, Snufkin steps closer once Moomin has finished what he wanted to do, and holds his hands out, the small bouquet almost directly under the troll’s snout.

Moomin goes a little cross eyed trying to look at it before he takes a step back and raises an eyebrow. “Asters?”

“For you. I saw them on my way back and thought of you…” Now he’s saying it out loud, Snufkin finds himself a lot more embarrassed about it than he had been when picking them, despite it being clear in his mind the intention of doing so.

But Moomin gently takes the bunch from him, paws brushing his hands, and in this moment he looks so soft, so welcoming, that Snufkin can’t help but fall in love a little bit more.

“Snufkin… Thank you.” He looks like he wants to say more, but Little My rushes over, hair unusually messy and out of its normal shape, face like a thunderstorm, and they both run.

* * *

 

After a rapid chase, ending in Moomin falling into the river and Little My standing on his stomach, victorious, whilst Snufkin laughs from the bridge, the three of them make their way up to Moominhouse.

The asters somehow never left Moomin’s paw, which makes Snufkin smile as he watches his friend place them into a small jar with some water before he rushes upstairs to dry off.

Mamma and Pappa explain that they’re holding a small gathering at dinner, to welcome in the Spring, and Snufkin agrees to come, purely so he can spend time with Moomin (well, it’d be nice to see their other friends too, he supposes).

“You know, little brother,” Little My begins, swinging her legs in the chair as she peels some potatoes for Mamma after Snufkin washes them whilst he waits for Moomin to come back down. “Moomin didn’t sleep more than a few days at a time this  _ whole _ Winter.”

He frowns a little, the words not meant to be worrying but still having that effect. “Is that so?”

She nods slowly, like he’s an idiot, but Mamma shoots her a look and Little My sighs. “I just thought that you might know why.”

Snufkin thinks about it for a moment but can’t come up with anything other than some ridiculous notions. Little My sighs and continues to peel the potatoes, tutting when Snufkin is slow to pass her one.

It must’ve been an unbearably long Winter for Moomin, if he couldn’t hibernate the way moomins are meant to, but he seemed chipper and well rested. Maybe he doesn’t need to hibernate right now?

Snufkin would be lying if he said he understood moomins completely. How can he when he barely understands his own species?

“Snufkin! There’s something I have to show you, come on!” Moomin says excitedly, running down the stairs and into the kitchen.

He dries his hands on a towel, nodding in recognition when Mamma thanks him for helping, before turning to follow Moomin out of the front door. 

It’s only when he’s out of the house and trying to keep up with his friend to wherever it is he’s going to show him is that he realises he left his hat behind to dry on the windowsill after it got splashed by Little My. He debates turning back and getting it, but Moomin doesn’t seem to be in a waiting mood, so he sighs and jogs to catch up.

“What is it you need to show me?” Snufkin asks, trying to ignore the way the wind blows his hair around in a way that feels completely alien without his hat.

Moomin stops for a moment, and stares at Snufkin’s hair, clearly forgetting what he was going to say. It makes Snufkin feel a little self conscious, but something about the look in Moomin’s eyes stops him from reaching up to sort it out.

“Um… There’s a glade not too far from here, full of flowers that are new! The Hemulen told me about them all and what they mean yesterday, and I thought we could go there together…” Snufkin notices Moomin twisting his paws around each other as he talks, eyes still fixated on his hair, tail whipping back and forth almost anxiously.

Snufkin smiles and places a hand over Moomin’s paws, feeling warmth spread through his fingertips when it seems to help calm him down. “That sounds lovely, Moomin.”

Moomin hums softly, distant, before turning his paw over in Snufkin’s hold so he can hold his hand back, continuing on their path to the glade.

They get there way too soon in Snufkin’s opinion, letting go of their hands as the smell of new, exciting flowers fills their senses.

Around them is what appears to be hundreds of flowers of varying shapes, sizes and colours, all with different scents and yet somehow it all makes sense together. The glade is empty besides the two of them, like a secret only they know for now.

Moomin leads Snufkin around, pointing at different bushes and clusters, explaining their origins and their names, describing things about them in perfect detail. Snufkin nods along, finding them all to be beautiful and exciting in their own ways, but none of them scream out to him, not the way the asters had.

But then he stops to appreciate a small bush with dark green, leathery leaves, full of fragrant white flowers, their petals soft and waxy to the touch. Moomin stops his explanation of a different flower and waits when he realises Snufkin has fallen behind, his tail swaying gently behind him as he stands.

“Those are pretty,” the troll muses as he returns to Snufkin’s side after a moment, considering something for a moment before picking one gently and placing it in Snufkin’s hair, tucked against the shell of his ear. Moomin steps back a little, and tilts his head before nodding to himself. “Even prettier now.”

Snufkin reaches up to carefully feel the flower in his hair, feeling his cheeks burn, unfortunately without a hat to hide underneath. “What’s this one… Called?”

Shaking his head, Moomin turns away and continues walking. “That’s a secret.”

A secret? Snufkin glances at the bush again, the feeling of Moomin’s soft paw on his ear like a brand, and he hopes he never forgets how soft and caring it felt.

* * *

 

They spent another hour in the glade, discussing flowers and their meanings, but no matter how much gentle prodding Snufkin did, Moomintroll wouldn’t tell him what the one he gave him meant, or even its name, changing the subject with haste.

Maybe it didn’t matter, but something about the way the moment flowed felt… Strong, too important to just gloss over any of it.

As they return to the valley, they stand close as they walk, arms brushing together with every other step, not brave enough to reach out and tangle fingers after such a charged afternoon.

The small gathering appears to be more of a post-hibernation party, with almost everyone present, including a few faces Snufkin doesn’t recognise. He feels the suffocating pressure close around his lungs a little, but Moomin pulls him into the house instead of around to the garden where everyone else is.

“Moomintroll?”

“I have to tell you something before we go out there,” he whispers, looking about as nervous as Snufkin feels. “I broke up with Snorkmaiden.”

For a moment, the only sounds in the room is the music from the party outside, and the chatter and laughter. What does one say to that? How is Snufkin supposed to respond?

For a start, his heart leaps into his throat, almost choking him, because… Does this mean he has a chance? And then there’s guilt, because he shouldn’t feel as elated about this as he does.

“... How did she take it?”

Moomin looks out of the window, fiddling with his tail. “Not… Not great, at first. She was quite upset before we went into hibernation, but she isn’t angry anymore, she said she understands now.”

Angry? Well, Snufkin supposes that she has every right to be upset. “And you? Is that what kept you up all Winter?”

He thinks of the flower in his hair, of the softness of his paw in his hand, of the gentle smiles, and finds himself a little embarrassed at how desperately he wants their breakup to be over  _ him _ .

“I… Sort of?” Moomin sounds embarrassed too, and Snufkin finds himself smiling in spite of it all. “It was for the best, I think. No, I know.”

“Then that’s all that matters,” Snufkin whispers, taking Moomin’s paw and heading to the door. “Let’s party.”

* * *

 

A few hours in, after a dinner of Spring delicacies, cooked to perfection by Mamma (with Little My’s help), everyone is either dancing or chatting, drinks of juice (or punch) in hand, catching up after the long Winter.

Moomin is dancing with Little My, the two of them laughing joyously. Snufkin has noticed Snorkmaiden glancing in his direction a few times, and they share a small smile across the dancefloor before she dances with Sniff.

"May I sit with you, Snufkin?" The Hemulen asks, eyes fixated on his hair, like almost everyone that came and spoke to him. Was it really that odd for him to be seen without his hat?

He nods, shuffling along the hay bale so the Hemulen has more room to sit. "Of course."

Neither of them say anything for a while, Snufkin enjoying the lack of conversation.

"That's a nice flower you have there," the Hemulen says matter-of-factly, voice quiet against the music but words like shouting in Snufkin's ears. "Did Moomin take you to the glade we found?"

Another nod, not trusting his voice, finger running around the rim of his glass.

"Are you aware of what that flower means?"

He shakes his head, glancing at Moomin and feeling his heart jump at the sight of his joyous smile, chuckling as Little My steps on his toes. "He wouldn't tell me."

Humming softly in thought, the Hemulen announces his departure, shaking Snufkin's hand before finding someone else to talk to.

He's idly reminded of the midsummer party from last year, uncomfortable and alone, breath stifled, only now he has eyes on him, and it makes him feel much too big for his skin.

"Hey," Moomin greets, smiling and out of breath, holding out his paw for him. "Dance with me?"

Snufkin stares blankly at his outstretched paw, debating whether it was worth possibly embarrassing himself just to be close to Moomin. It's not even a question.

Placing his hand in his paw, he smiles and lets Moomin pull him up, bringing him over to the dancefloor.

The song isn't particularly quick, nor is it very slow, just the right rhythm for Snufkin to not feel uncomfortable with people watching.

Moomin spins him around carefully, mindful of the other dancers, laughing when Snufkin stumbles a little, holding him upright. "Sorry, I shouldn't laugh."

Snufkin laughs along, trying to let loose and not worry, finding it easier to go along with having fun when he's so close to Moomin. He knows his face must be pink, but in this moment, he finds that he doesn't care.

When the song finishes, the two of them sit back down, watching everyone else dance, talking about everything and nothing.

Absent-mindedly, Snufkin fiddles with his sea glass as Moomin talks about Little My's Winter antics, watching how the multi-coloured string lights behind them reflect on the surface made smooth by his hands.

"You… Kept it?" Moomin asks halfway through a rendition of how he woke up covered in pea soup.

A little startled, Snufkin fumbles it, catching it before it falls. "I- of course I kept it…?" Why was that even a question? Well, it makes sense Moomintroll would assume he didn't keep it. He always kept it with him no matter what, to keep it safe, because he'd never had anything he valued enough to have anything to protect it (besides his hat and harmonica, but those were usually always with him too).

"I just thought that since you didn't like to keep things, you wouldn't have it anymore..." A sigh, then a bright smile. "Is it really that special to you?"

Snufkin takes some time to mull over the question, given how loaded it is, but he hurries up his thoughts when Moomin's smile begins to slip. "Yes."

The short answer doesn't seem to be enough, a slight look of doubt in his blue eyes.

"Because it's from you…"

The way his eyes light up again, the way his fur turns pink under his eyes, the way his mouth turns up, how something in the atmosphere around them changes, it all sends butterflies swarming to Snufkin's stomach, eyes averted.

"Stay in the house with me tonight," Moomin says, repositioning the flower in Snufkin's hair, it probably having slipped as they were dancing. "I'll tell you about the flower then."

It's been so long since they last had a sleepover, and with the softness surrounding them, how could Snufkin ever say no?

* * *

 

The party ended on a high, fireworks lighting up the sky to welcome in the warmer weather, and everyone hugged and laughed and said their goodbyes before going home.

Sniff and Snorkmaiden are staying a little longer, and so the five of them all sit in the living room, sharing stories and eating leftovers. Mamma and Pappa had retired to bed not long ago, but Snufkin can hear them snoring gently up the stairs when the conversation lulls.

"- and Sniff was so scared he ran for miles, screaming!" Little My shouts, jumping into Moomin's shoulder next to Snufkin, laughing maniacally as the others laugh as well at Sniff's expense.

"Guys that's so not fair." Sniff whines, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping down on the sofa. 

Snorkmaiden pats his knee reassuringly, despite the fact that she's still laughing. It just makes Sniff huff louder, turning his face away.

"I'm sure there really was something there," Snufkin offers, crossing his leg over the other, trying not to jolt in surprise when Little My picks Moomin's arm up and puts it around his shoulders before sitting on his head. "Although now we'll never know. If only you were brave enough to check."

Moomin laughs a little louder. "Don't be so harsh, Snuff."

Snorkmaiden's smile falls when she looks at them, before she stands and yawns. "Well, I guess I should go home. Thanks for the party, I'll see myself out."

Frowning, Snufkin moves to stand to see her out anyway, but Sniff jumps up and declares his departure too, wishing them all a good night before following Snorkmaiden out of the front door.

"Well that was sudden," Little My announces after their footsteps grow too quiet to hear. "I wonder what that was all about." Her tone of voice says she knows, and her eyes twinkle with mischief before she hops off of Snufkin's head, wandering upstairs.

"Maybe we should go to bed too," Moomin wonders out loud, bringing his arm back to his lap, not quite as chipper as just now. "We should talk."

Snufkin doesn't like the serious tone, can't stand the way it makes his hair stand on end on instinct, ready to run at the first sign of emotional damage. But he nods, standing, letting Moomin lead the way to his bedroom.

Moomintroll's bedroom is exactly as it was the last time he was in it, familiar and welcoming. Even the newer additions from more recent years (like the picture of Moomin striking a heroic pose on his bedside table that makes Snufkin giggle fondly) are easily recognised.

The door shuts with a click, and Moomin sits on the bed as Snufkin picks up the other photo frame on his bedside table, heart melting at the picture of the two of them sitting on the bridge from a few years ago.

"Gardenia," Moomin says, voice clear and certain, only a hint of apprehension in it. Snufkin sits down when Moomin pats the space next to him, excited despite the need he feels to not get his hopes up. "This flower."

Snufkin nods a little as Moomin takes the flower out of his hair, holding it out on his paw for them both to look at as he talks, Snufkin's heart in his throat.

"It has a few meanings, but when the Hemulen told me about it, it just made me think of you," the troll places it in Snufkin's lap, before swivelling around to face him. "When given, they mean 'you are lovely', and you are, Snufkin," he doesn't seem to be done, but already Snufkin feels like he might spontaneously combust, blushing so hard he doesn't know how Moomin doesn't look surprised. "But most of all, they convey a secret love, or a love untold…"

Unable to hold Moomin's gaze, Snufkin drops his eyes to the flower in question, scooping it up into his hand gently and inspecting it, blood rushing in his ears. "... For me…?"

"For you."

Snufkin almost can't believe it. For him.

"That's why Snorkmaiden was upset before she left… And why I had to break up with her," Moomin starts sounding less confident, like his bravado is slipping, and Snufkin wants nothing more than to just tell him how much he loves him back, but finds the words get stuck in his throat. "And if you'd rather go back to your tent now that would be… Okay."

Now is the time, he thinks, taking a deep breath and putting the gardenia next to the framed photo of them both before he takes Moomin's paws into his hands and wills himself to be brave. "No wonder I was so drawn to it, then," he begins, talking slowly to make sure he says it right. "I think perhaps we both hold a secret love, for each other."

The tension of the day rains down on them suddenly, and Moomin pulls them both off of the bed, hugging Snufkin hard enough to lift him off his feet, and they both laugh brightly. 

"Oh Snufkin, I was so worried you'd hate me!"

"Not possible," Snufkin smiles, putting his hands on Moomin's cheeks gently so he can press their lips together softly, blushing when Moomin makes a confused sound before nuzzling his cheek. "How could I hate the only person who has ever felt like home to me?"

They share a smile that says everything they can never put into words, new and special yet not all that different from smiles they've shared since the dawn of their friendship.

"I love you, Snufkin." Moomin whispers as they lay down to sleep, snuggled up close and comfortably so.

The moonlight hits the sea glass on the bedside table beside the gardenia and asters, and Snufkin has never felt happier. "I love you too, Moomintroll."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's it!
> 
> i had so much fun writing this, it was nice to take a break from the angst of 'you say you miss me', so nice that i stopped writing that just to finish this one lol, sorry if you're waiting for an update for that too, wont be long!
> 
> also this chapter is like, the same length as the other three combined, i just had so many good ideas for it
> 
> most of the flower stuff is researched but i did still make some stuff up
> 
> hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed!  
> more chaps soon!


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